Lately We've Been Breaking
by kate-dammit-run
Summary: Instead of letting Jane walk away after the kiss, Kurt invites her up for dinner. Post Fall Finale. Slight AU.
1. Chapter 1

My first time writing for Blindspot and Jeller. Yay!

 **Summary:** Instead of letting Jane walk away after the kiss, Kurt invites her up for dinner.

* * *

"See you tomorrow," she said, standing just a few steps away from him on the sidewalk but it suddenly felt like they were miles apart.

"Okay," he said, for a moment his legs felt heavy, every nerve in his body urging them to move, to go after her, but they froze in place. He watched her turn her back and start walking away, and the order went from his legs to his lips, "wait," he heard himself call after her before he knew it. She stopped immediately, a part of her dreading turning back, the other part, the louder part, calling her to run to him.

She turned around slowly and watched him, that mesmerised, confused look on his face, blue eyes striking through her. "Do you want to come up? Have diner with... with _us?_ " he asked.

It was her turn to freeze. She didn't fail to notice the _us_ instead of the _me,_ and she knew he was protecting her again, _no pressure, just dinner_. And she knew the right answer was no. She knew enough had happened tonight to make her dread tomorrow, there was no need to add to it.

But she also knew she wanted more, not that any _more_ would happen with his sister and nephew in the same space, but just spending more time with him for now was... _more._

He sensed her trepidation, sensed that her brain was working overtime analysing the situation so he smiled and added, "don't worry, Sarah's not cooking. It's my turn tonight," and that was enough to break her out of her trance. She smiled. She nodded. And she walked over. He held the door open for Sawyer and for her. And he didn't fail to notice that she walked just an inch too close to him as she made her way through. Just as she didn't fail to notice that when his hand landed on the small of her back, leading her towards the elevator, it was a touch he had never dared to touch her before.

Standing next to Kurt in the back of the elevator, the nine year old in front of them, she suddenly remembered the last time she was standing there. And the sudden panic returned. She shifted, and he felt it. _Of course_ he felt it. With a quick glance towards her, he reached over and took her hand in his with a gentle squeeze. Her gaze dropped to there clasped hands as he spoke.

"Hey, buddy, let's not tell your mom about what you saw down there, okay?" Kurt said. Sarah knowing about this was... it was the last thing he needed tonight. _They_ needed.

Sawyer turned his head slightly, "but mom hates it when I lie to her," he replied innocently.

"Oh, no, it wouldn't be lying... How about this? How about we let this be _our_ secret? Just us guys. What do you say?" Kurt negotiated.

Sawyer considered that for a moment. Sharing a secret with his uncle did sound pretty cool. "Ok, sure. Our secret," he attempted a wink and a smirk and turned back as the elevator doors opened.

"What took you so long?" Sarah quipped as she saw her son walking towards the front door, "I -" she stopped mid sentence as she saw Taylor - _Jane -_ walk up behind Kurt. "T- Jane, hi! What... What're you...?" she stumbled, genuinely shocked to see the woman come back after the way the last dinner went.

"I invited Jane for dinner... Is that okay?" Kurt said feeling Jane come to a stop beside him, her hand brushing his swiftly, knowing there'll be no handholding at this point.

"Of course, of course!" Sarah, moving to the side to let them in, grabbing the groceries from Sawyer as he walked past her, "it's so good to see you again."

She made sure to keep her distance, no awkward hug this time, but she was pleasantly surprised when Jane leaned in for a quick friendly hug. She shot Kurt a look over her shoulder but he just gave her a smile and a shrug.

Dinner went well. A little _too_ well.

Sawyer kept his promise, quickly forgetting it most probably when his mom told him it was okay to stay a little late and watch the game with his uncle. _Guy_ time, he said and went back to his dinner.

The three adults kept the conversation simple, light. Jane told them about her night out with Patterson and Tasha before... _before._ And about their failed attempt at going shopping. She ended up just buying more jeans and tank tops, albeit in a few more cheerful colours. She swears she bought a light blue one and not just greys and whites.

Unlike her usual self, Sarah spoke the least at the table, glad to see the awkwardness from last time was slowly thawing over. But every time she looked over at Kurt, he felt it. She knew. She knew _something_ was up. Of course she knew. And he managed to avert her gaze every time. Not now. Not now, _please._

Jane didn't long after dinner. She knew she had to go back. Kurt knew it too. And Sarah knew something was up.

But that... _that_ was enough for now. It was more and it was all they needed. It was _something._ It was normal. And it was enough. For now.

She said good night to Sarah and Sawyer and made her way to the door, with Kurt close behind, his hand on her shoulder. He stepped out side with her, leaving the door ajar.

And they stood there.

And it was suddenly awkward. She swayed on her heels, back and forth, and he dug his hands in his pockets, deeper and deeper, suddenly mesmerised by the paint pattern on the walls.

Now what? He knew what he should do. She knew what she wanted him to do, what _she_ wanted to do. But neither did anything. They just stood there. And it was a sight for sore eyes. Two hard core bad ass agents standing face to face in hallway more awkward than a pair of teenagers after their first date.

"So, umm..." They both said at the same time, cutting each other off and smiling shyly.

"You first," she said, mainly because she did not really have anything to say.

"Are you sure you don't want me to give you a ride back?" He asked.

She smiled, biting her lip, she shook her head. "I want to walk," she said.

He nodded, "okay, but be careful," he urged her, now more than ever.

"I can take care of myself," she quipped with a sly grin.

"I know you can," he replied with a smile on his lips but a look of concern in his eyes.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she said and he could only say what he said before.

 _Okay._

He watched her disappear into the elevator and stood there for another moment, acutely aware that his knuckles were starting to chafe as dug his hands deeper into his pocket.

Luckily, he managed to avoid Sarah for the rest of the evening. She busied herself with the dishes for most of it then quickly excused herself when she came out and saw the boys too engrossed in their game.

She gave her some a kiss and walked towards her bedroom, pausing shortly by Kurt as she walked.

"You and I need to talk," she whispered.

"Talk about what?" he feigned confusion, eyes glued to the game.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, "You're pathetic," she mumbled.

When he called her later at night, his voice hopeful, boyish, it never occurred to him that the next morning, with a slight spring in his step, and small smile on his lips, the first words he will hear upon walking into the bullpen would be, "Jane's missing."

* * *

So, there it is. My first Blindspot/Jeller fic. I would love hear what you guys think!


	2. Chapter 2

I know that I'd marked this as complete, but this next chapter wouldn't leave me alone, so here it is. Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, favorited the first chapter. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

* * *

Jane. Jane. Jane Jane Jane.

He repeats her name to himself like a mantra. A prayer.

Jane is missing and he can't breathe.

They're in the briefing room. Mayfair is there. So is Patterson. And so are Reade and Zapata. That much he is aware of.

Her security detail were debriefed and sent back out. They'd last seen her when they drove her back to the safe house, and had assumed all along that that was where she was until they knocked at her door in the morning and got no answer.

He corrected them. Told them she'd snuck out under their watch. He wanted to reprimand them, to yell and shout and scream and blame it all on them. But he knew he was just as guilty as they were. He should have insisted on driving her back.

He _should_ have.

He should have kissed her again, in the hallway, before she left.

He explains that she left his place at around eight. He says she stayed over for dinner. Anything else is irrelevant, he keeps it to himself.

Mayfair takes over and he sits back. He feels himself sinking into his seat. Sinking. Deeper and deeper.

The thumping starts in his ears and his vision begins to cloud as one thought occupies his everything.

 _He's losing her again_. Taylor. Jane.

No. _Jane_.

Jane isn't Taylor.

He doesn't care which test is wrong; whether it's the DNA test or the isotope test. It doesn't matter because Jane is _Jane_.

And in that moment, he hates Patterson for being so diligent, for being so good at what she does.

But it doesn't matter. Because whether Jane is Taylor or whether Jane isn't Taylor, this time around it's Jane that he's losing, not Taylor.

 _Jane_.

He hears Tasha and Reade, their voices sound like they're miles away as they talk about scanning surveillance footage, but the thumping in his ears is too loud and he cannot make out what they're saying.

But it doesn't matter because it's Jane. _Jane_. And he can't lose her because he needs to tell her.

He needs to tell her that it doesn't matter what the test results say. She is _Jane_.

He's not that ten year old boy and she's not that five year old girl. And the main difference is that, little Kurt survived losing Taylor. He didn't make it out unscathed but still, he survived. But grown up Kurt? Grown up Kurt knows he will not survive losing Jane.

Mayfair takes him off the case almost too quickly. _You're head isn't on straight!_ And he knows she is right, he knows he would so the same in her place but it doesn't stop him from putting on a fight, and she eventually puts him back on but not back in charge. He's to stay out of the field, help Patterson from the office. She doesn't trust him armed and out in the field and she shouldn't. He's a _mess._

* * *

He's going through footage from street cams when he hears a sudden ruckus behind him. He turns around and there she is, stepping out of the elevator. And everything suddenly stops. Her eyes find his instantly and she wants to cry because, from this moment on, _nothing will be the same anymore_.

Mayfair pulls the team into the briefing room, away from the masses of inquisitive agents.

And that's when it starts.

She begins with the truth. Carter took her.

"Did he hurt you?" Mayfair asks.

"No," Jane replies, looking everywhere but at Kurt because he knows. He could tell straight away.

She tells them what he wanted.

"Where is he now? How'd you get out?" it's Zapata with the questions, a tremble in her voice that doesn't go unnoticed to the rest of the team.

"He's dead," Jane says, still avoiding Kurt, who sits at one end of the table, studying her, so closely and so… she can feel the warmth and weight of his blue eyes on her.

A moment of silence as the room tries to make sense of her reply.

It's Patterson who asks the obvious question. "Did you… Did you _kill_ him?"

Jane shakes her head.

"Who was it?"

She's not sure who asks that but it doesn't matter because she's too focused on what she'd been practicing to say for the past hour.

"I don't know who he is," she says.

And there it is. The first lie. The first lie that Jane tells her team, her _friends._

And at this point she cannot bear to look at any of them, not only him. Her eyes drop to her lap and she awaits the inevitable barrage of questions.

Nothing will ever be the same again.

"I don't know who he is," she repeats and she thinks they all believe her.

Except Kurt. She knows _he_ doesn't buy it.

That's why she chose him in the first place.

More questions come and more lies follow. She gives them just enough to make her story believable. Just enough to keep her secret. And with every lie she feels the ties she has made wit these people, the bonds of trust and friendship, snapping.

* * *

In the end, she's alone in the briefing room with a sketch artist as per Mayfair's orders. Zapata and Reade back at their desks and Patterson in her lab.

And Kurt… Kurt is no where to be found.

As the artist asks her questions, she finds herself wondering when it became just _Kurt_ instead of Weller, when she became so intimate with his name that all formalities dropped and he gave her license to use it, to make it hers.

It's an hour later and she walks out having given the artist just enough details to draw his sketch but not enough to make it too clear.

She wanders the bullpen for a moment before heading to the locker room. She finds him there, sitting on one of the benches, elbows resting on his knees head dropped against his chest.

She's not sure whether he notices someone coming in because he doesn't make a move. She walks to her locker knowing she has a change of clothes there, wanting more than anything to get out of the ones she was wearing. They were damp and disgusting.

 _They reminded her of everything she wanted to forget._

Nothing will be the same after tonight, she reminds herself and she wants to cry.

His hoarse voice startles her when he finally speaks, "you should go home, take the day off, get some rest."

And he finally looks up, finally looks at her, and this time she cannot escape his gaze.

And she knows that he knows. The lies.

"Kurt -" she starts, not sure what to say next, but his name is all she can muster now.

She walks over and sits next to him, her hand instinctually landing on his leg. He pulls up, reaches for her hand, his fingers delicately wrapping around her wrist.

He lifts her hand and places it on the bench between them and she is suddenly so cold. _So_ cold.

He gets up and steps away. "I'll let your detail know that you're heading back home," he says and leaves, not giving her a chance to say anything.

They both know it. Nothing is going to be the same anymore.

* * *

Well, this turned out to be angstier than expected. Still, hope you guys enjoyed it.


	3. Chapter 3

Hey guys! Thank again for all your awesome reviews. Here's the next update. I cannot promise that it's happy one either. But the angst... the angst is always good, no?

* * *

 _What do you do if some one you trust lets you down?  
_ _Well, if it's forgivable, I think you forgive her._

* * *

Three gentle taps on the front door and he knows it's her. He opens the door and takes her in. She looks like shit. Still the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. But she still looks like shit. And he's pretty sure he looks even worse.

She barely looks up at him and when she does, the words escape his lips before he can stop them. "Did you sneak out again?" And he hates himself for saying them. So harsh. So malicious. And sure he's angry but he doesn't need to be an asshole about it.

She shakes her head. "My detail are downstairs. I asked them to bring me here."

Silence again. And for the first time since the met, months ago, the silence is painful. Awkward. Deafening. She shifts uncomfortably, wraps her arms around herself and he finally steps aside, letting her in.

He's eternally grateful that Sawyer is at a sleepover and that Sarah's out for dinner. Things are too complicated as it is.

"Thanks," she whispers weakly as she walks past him and it takes all his restraint to stop himself from pulling her towards her and wrapping her in his arms. He knows that despite everything, she too is hurting, that whatever she has gone through in the past 24 hours must have been horrifying and she doesn't deserve this.

But he's stubborn, it was one the first things she figured out about him, and she could not have been more accurate.

Jane makes her way to the center of the room and her heart is beating at a million miles a minute. Not the first time it does that when she's around Kirt Weller. But the last time it happened, he had his fingers running through her hair and she could feel his stubble against her finger tips.

She has practiced what to say all afternoon but as she stands there, face to face with him, the look of pain, _betrayal_ , on his face, she forgets it all. She throws it all away.

* * *

 _Well, if it's forgivable, I think you forgive her.  
_ _And what if you can't?  
_ _I'm not sure. None of you have ever let me down._

* * *

What _is_ she supposed to say? That she's doing this to protect him? That he needs to trust her? He _did_ trust her, up until a few hours ago, he trusted her just as much as he trusted the team he has been working with for years, if not more.

And _protect_ him? He can take care of himself. And what is she protecting him from? _Who_ is she protecting him from? From the people who brought her to him. From herself.

She shudders at the thought. _At the inescapable reality._

Who is she?

Oscar didn't tell her everything, just enough, for now. But either way, it doesn't take much to figure out that whoever she was before all this… it isn't who she is now, doesn't know how to be this person.

What _she_ had planned, what she wanted, what her endgame was… How is Jane supposed to be that woman? She isn't. She's _Jane._

That woman chose Kurt Weller for a reason. How well did she know him? Did she plan this? Of course she did.

Jane looks up at Kurt, pain seeping through his gaze. But did she plan _this?_ Did she know about the connection that will grow between them, the bond that will, within a few days, make them inseparable? Surely, she couldn't have… could she?

She doesn't know how long they stand there. Silent. Cold. Distant.

* * *

 _But I just hope that you can try to see her side of things.  
Because whatever she did, she's more than just one mistake._

* * *

"Do you want anything to drink?" he asks, oddly, and it's so distant she almost expects him to call her ma'am.

She shakes her head and the weight of silence falls on them again. She stands in the middle of the room and he sticks to his position by the door. She had once called him stubborn. She was right then, reading him like an open book despite knowing him for so little a time.

"Kurt," she finally says, when the silence becomes too much to handle.

"Did you think I wouldn't know when you're lying to me? To us?" he says, interrupting her, and his voice is calm, controlled. There is a fine in his eyes but his voice remains… cold. _So_ cold.

"Kurt…" is all she can say and she feels so wrong, it feels so wrong, _his name_ on her lips feels wrong. She doesn't think she deserves to say his name like that, not after the betrayal.

No. It is not her who is betraying him. It's _her_. That other woman. The woman from before. The one with the long hair and clear skin. The woman who was engaged to Oscar. The woman who orchestrated all this and did this to her. She is not that woman.

"I know you, Jane, I can tell when you're lying," he says and his voice is still so calm, so controlled and it infuriates her. She wants him to get angry. She wants him to yell and scream. That she would know how to handle. that is what she expects.

And so she decides _she_ will be angry.

"But you don't! You don't know me!" she cries out, the first burst of real emotion all day that he sees from her, and slowly that fire that burns inside him, threatening to burn him, starts to radiate out.

And he takes a step towards her, just one, subtle, but enough.

"I _do_ know you!" he says.

"I am not the five your old neighbor you lost!" she cries out.

He freezes in place, for a just a moment because he is not sure if she means that literally or not, but he knows where _he_ stands either way. He takes another step forward.

"I'm not talking about Taylor. I'm talking about you, Jane! I know _you_. I'm talking about the woman who jumps right into the thick of things to help people. The woman who hates seeing wrong done to people. The -" he explains, but it's her turn to take a step forward, finally.

"What if that's not who I am! What if who I am, who I was before all this is someone... Someone _horrible_ ," she argues and she is starting to break, the brave facade she has managed to hold so far begins to crumble.

Under his gaze, his anger, his constraint, his _pain._

The pain caused by her betrayal.

And he shakes his head.

"I don't believe that," he says.

"What if it's the _truth_?" she asks.

The _truth._ That is what he wants from her, isn't it?

But he refuses to believe that.

"No," he says again, with another steps towards her.

He is still a handful of steps away.

And she starts to cry.

He makes a step to close the gap.

But she takes a step back.

* * *

Like I said... more angst. Sorry! I hope you at least enjoyed it. If you did (or if you didn't) let me know. Reviews are the absolute best!


	4. Chapter 4

Hey guys! Thank you so much for all your incredible reviews! I am so sorry this chapter has taken me a little longer to post, and that it is much shorter than usual, but it is a hectic week, full of deadlines, but I did want to get something up, so here it is. Hope you enjoy this too. I'm starting to ease out of the angst, I think.

* * *

Her admission shakes him to the core. All his anger cannot overcome his heartbreak for the woman standing in front of him. For all her deadly skills, the sight of her right now, broken, vulnerable, shattered, is too heartbreaking. She's a victim in all this, he reminds himself. Regardless of what has happened in the last twenty four, she is still a victim and it doesn't change what has happened over the last few months, all the time they have spent together, all the good work they have done, all the times she has saved his life and him hers.

He reaches for her again, and again, she pulls back. "Jane," he says, almost whimpers, "please." She looks up at him then, wide green eyes drowning in agony and confusion, reminding him painfully of that first night when he left her at the safe house, ever so lost and confused. Her chin quivers and that is it for him. He closes the distance between them and takes her into his arms.

His pride, his anger, be damned for now. She needs him, and it is all that matters. She collapses against him, falls apart in his arms, they weight of it all just to much to bare any longer. And not just the past twenty four hours, but all of it.

She's grateful for him right then, his presence, his embrace, his strength. And she cannot help but think how he has been her anchor every single day since she stepped out of that bag in Times Square.

And that only makes her guilt heavier, more devastating. He does not deserve any of this.

He holds her tight, not sure how long they stand there, and he does not pull back until he feels her shaking start to ease. When he pulls, she clings on, her forehead presses tightly against his collarbone and he feels the wet tears on his shirt.

He hates seeing her like this.

Her whispers pull him back. "I'm sorry," she chokes.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Her string of apologies thread with every gasping breath she takes.

"No, don't," he says as he pries her off him, gently.

What ever it is that happened, he now _knows_ she is not lying to them intentionally, that whatever has forced her to not tell them the truth is tearing her apart, is hurting her more than him or anyone else.

"Hey, hey," his voice is soft, caressing almost, and his fingers find her chin, turning her face just enough to meet her tear-filled eyes. "It's okay, it's okay," he tells her, comforting, promising, accepting.

He leads them to the couch and they sit down. He gets up almost immediately, says something about getting her a glass of water, and she can barely hear him from the thumping in her ears. She shouldn't have come here. Having Kurt angry at her is better than... that this. He shouldn't be comforting her, he _should_ be angry. She lied to him. She betrayed him.

She shouldn't have come here.

 _But why did it feel so right?_

When he returns, placing the glass of water in front of her and sitting back on the couch, the gap between them, that moment ago had been closed, returns. He is not sure why. You're giving her the space she needs, he tells himself. She takes a sip of water and puts the glass back down. "Thanks," she manages to say but she still cannot look at him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he finally asks _the_ question. It may be too soon. Or not soon enough. But it had to happen. They both know it.

 _Inevitable._ Just like them.

She looks at him. Really looks at him. And she shakes her head.

"Not yet," she says, and it's there, the pure sincerity he's come to recognise her gaze.

And he believes her. Not _yet._ He nods in reply. And she thinks that maybe they will be okay for now.

She shifts, twisting her fingers in her lap, and thinks she needs to get out of here now. She shifts, again and he knows what she's thinking. He reaches over and touches her thigh, just slightly, and says, "stay." And it is the last thing she expects to hear. Why would he still want her there?

"No," she replies, "I should go... your sister..." she tries to justify why she needs to leave but he's stubborn. "Don't worry about Sarah," he reassures her, "please, just stay. You can stay in my room, I'll take the couch."

"No, you don't need to -" she starts but she does not continue. She doesn't want to go back to the safe house, not a home, cold, detached. She _wants_ to stay here, not necessarily with him, but here, where it feels like... _home._

* * *

So here it is. MUCH less angst if I do say so myself. I have to admit, I do not know where this is going exactly, but as long as you guys are reading and enjoying, I'll keep going I guess. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

Hey everyone! Another short update. Less angst though. It feels like the less the angst, the shorter the chapter. It might be a sign of something. I dunno, my love for pain I suppose? LOL! Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

She shifts, twisting her fingers in her lap, and think she needs to get out of here now. She shifts, again, and he knows what she's thinking. He reaches over and touches her thigh, just slightly, and says, "stay." And it is the last thing she expects to hear. Why would he still want her there?

"No, I should go… your sister…" she tries to justify why she needs to leave but he's stubborn. "Don't worry about Sarah," he reassures her, "please, just stay. You can stay in my room, I'll take the couch."

"No, you don't need to -" she starts but she does not continue. She doesn't want to go back to the safe house, not a home, cold, detached. She _wants_ to stay here, not necessarily with him, but here, where it feels like a… _home._

He is overwhelmed with a sense of relief when she nods, when she accepts. And he doesn't know what happens now but at least that's a step forward. He realises then that he is no longer angry. That whatever events happened in the last twenty four hours, whatever caused her to take the decision to lie to them, has put them both in a situation they do now want to be in. And he is going to take her words to heart, the words, the _advice_ she'd given him about Mayfair. He tells himself that he _knows_ her, not because he is Taylor, that she _might_ be Taylor. No, he knows _her,_ Jane.

He offers her his bathroom, to clean up, shower, and she accepts the offer appreciatively. His phone rings when she's in there. It's her security detail checking up and for a moment he feels a snarky remark coming up, "oh, now you're keeping an eye on her?" but he doesn't say anything. He just assures them she is still there and hangs up.

He sits on the edge of his bed and waits. For a brief moment it dawns on him that that's Jane in his bathroom, using his shower, but he quickly dismisses that thought. It's not the right time, he reprimands himself. He should be agent Weller now. Even though he knows he is not. If it were anyone else, he would not have asked them to stay the night, offered his bed, but there is still that line, and eve as he balances dangerously on it's edge, he will not cross it. Not physically, not even in the depths of his mind.

He is not sure how long he sits there, alone with his thoughts, traveling from being worries sick about what she had gone through with Carter, how it will affect her mentally and emotionally, to being concerned with what she had found out, concerned whether she will tell him or not, and the consequences of that, which ever way it goes. Worried about her case, the team… _them._

He finds himself thinking back to that kiss, to that moment that was just _them._ Kurt Weller has been with many women before, but never had he experienced a kiss like that, a kiss where both time and space ceased to exist and all that was left were just two people. A universe of only two. Erratic beating hearts and a desire to be one.

He is drowning in that thought when she steps out, dressed in oversized sweatpants and one of his sweatshirts. He knows he could have borrows something from his sister but this feels more… right. If he clears his mind from everything else, from their reality and just focuses on the image in front of it's almost perfect, almost normal, and he has to shut his eyes, briefly, to accept the reality of their situation, the complexity of it.

For a brief moment he has that look on his face, the same one he had when he saw her walking up in that form fitting black dress; that same look he had after she kissed him. _That_ look.

And that is the look she sees when she walks out of the bathroom and comes face to face with him.

There's something magical about seeing Kurt Weller like that, and it is something that not everyone gets to see, in fact very few people have, and little does she know, but Jane has had the bulk of it. Walls down, emotions exposed, raw, vulnerable, Kurt Weller does not do that often. But with Jane, it seems to be happening a lot recently.

She cannot help but smile when she sees him like that, a fleeting moment when all the complications of their precarious situation, the very unpredictable set up of their relationship, both personal and professional, goes flying out the window and they are just two people with an undeniable attraction, an invisible bond tying them together no matter which way they turn.

"Thanks," she says, raising her arms, up, her hands disappearing in the length of the sleeves. The shirt smells of him. _Everything_ smells of him, the shampoo, the towels, and she is grateful for it, his smell coming to mean a promise of safety over these past months.

There's another moment of silence between them, this one less awkward, more comfortable, like a warm blanket on a cold night and she walks towards him, still seated on the edge of the bed. She sits down next to him, right next to him, and this time neither shifts, netter builds a gap. She smells like his shampoo. And it smells so much better on her he decides.

She rests her head against his shoulder and his arm find a way around hers. The silence continues, wraps around them, a promise that no matter how difficult the time to come will be, hope should not be lost.

"I want to tell you everything," she admits.

* * *

A little teasing cliffhanger there, I know. Next chapter will be the last but I've started to work on my next fic so I hope you like this and read my next one too! Ugh, this hiatus is too long, it is not fair! What have we ever done to deserve this kind of torture?


	6. Chapter 6

Ok, I have to admit something. I had a very hard time writing this, primarily because I am terrified of what Tree Tattoo Man/Oscar will tell Jane and what things we will find out, so terrified that I do not even want to speculate. But, I promised to finish this so here goes nothing. Go easy on me, will ya?

* * *

She rests her head against his shoulder and his arm find a way around her. The silence continues, wraps around them, a promise that no matter how difficult the time to come will be, hope should not be lost.

"I want to tell you everything," she admits.

And for a brief moment, everything stands still. Jane holds her breath waiting for his response, terrified of it, whichever way it goes. And for a moment, Weller considers her offer. The truth. That is what he has wanted all along, and yet the prospect of knowing it scares him. And for a moment he actually considers saying no, preferring to stick with the version of the truth that she told the FBI, the version that will allow them to go on like before, be the team they were before.

Be _them_ , like nothing had happened.

But he knows neither one of them would be able to live with that half truth. So he nods and says, "if that's what you want."

And she knows he is still offering her an out, an exit, but she is determined now that no matter what, Kurt Weller deserves the truth from her. Not the long haired version of her that wanted her against telling Kurt Weller the truth. No, her, Jane, who knows that no matter what happens, no matter what goes wrong in this world, she can always depend on Weller. And if nothing else, he deserved the truth from her.

What happens next? She has no clue, but at least she'll be able to say she did not betray Kurt Weller.

It's a few moments before she finally speaks, her head lifts from his shoulder and she pushes back, turns to face him. And she wishes they weren't doing this on his _bed_. But that is how it has to be.

"Everything I told Mayfair, about Carter abducting me and taking me to that abandoned basement… all that was real," she starts, slowly, calmly, nothing like the mad beating of her heart in her chest.

And he just watches her. His gaze is neither intimidating nor demanding, just focused, listening.

"And someone did show up. He _did_ shoot Carter," she says, "and helped me get away."

That is everything she'd told them back at the FBI. Whatever she says next will define and shape all that is to come.

"But that wasn't all," she admits after a moment of silence. "For starters, I recognised him… the man who shot Carter, I mean."

She knows that he has a thousand questions, even at this point, and she knows he won't ask them. He won't push her to say something she is not ready to say, he won't force anything out of her. So she says it.

"He's the same man from my memories," she confesses, "the one… the man I was engaged to."

He doesn't know why but this bothers him more than anything else. More than the lies, more than anything else that could yet to come.

He _does know_ why but he just won't admit it yet.

He shuffles slightly, rumpling the sheets beneath him, but says nothing.

"His name is Oscar," she says and she doesn't know why this piece of information would be important. Wouldn't it be better that this forgotten man remain nameless? But no, she feels the need to share this with him. No more lies, she reminds herself.

"He… he also showed me a video… a recording I made before… before all of this," she gestures to the tattoos on her arms, and this finally has Weller responding.

"Did _he_ do this to you?" he asks, his voice calm despite the sudden fire burning under his skin.

She shakes her head. Oh how she wishes she could blame this on someone else, anyone, it would make everything so much easier.

And so she tells him. She tells him how she had orchestrated the whole thing, the tattoos, the memory wipe, the Times Square spectacle. She tells him that Oscar is just following _her_ orders.

And the whole time, she refers to herself, to that older version of her in the third person.

That woman is not her. She _needs_ him to understand that.

And when she finishes her _confession_ , she just sits there, quietly and waits for him. She does not know how he will react, nor does she know _how_ she wants him to react. All she knows is that there is a gap on the bed between them and it suddenly feels very wide.

And for a long while he says nothing. She can see the wheels in his head working, analysing, calculating. And she fears the worst. She silently begs him to say something, anything, And when he does, she can finally breathe again.

"You can't tell anyone about _any_ of this," he says.

"What?" she asks, utterly taken back by what he said.

"This, all of this, you cannot repeat it to anyone else," he says sternly.

"But… if anyone finds out about it, that I'm lying, I… _we_ can get into a lot of trouble," she says.

"Do you trust this Oscar guy to keep it a secret?" he asks.

She thinks for a moment and finally nods, "I think so… I mean, from what I've seen…"

"And do you trust _me_?" he asks.

"Of course," she replies, almost too quickly. Of course she does. He may just be the only person she does trust, including herself.

"Then that's that. No one needs to know anything."

"Kurt," she says, saying his name for the first time all evening.

And it feels like _home._

"Kurt," she says again, taking comfort in his name, " _I_ am responsible for all of this. All these things on my body… there is information there that I know about that I shouldn't know about. I don't know how I came to to know it but… I'm sure it's illegal."

"No," he says gravely.

"What do you mean _no_?" she asks, "it's definitely illegal!"

He shakes his head, "oh yes, I am sure it is very illegal," he says, "but the person who acquired that information, the person who planned all this, it isn't _you."_

This definitely confuses her.

"I don't understand," she admits.

"The woman you were before and the woman you are now… you cannot be held responsible for her actions," he tries to explain.

"Kurt, that doesn't make sense," she argues, "that woman and I… we're the same person," she explains. As much as she hates it, it is the truth.

"No, you're not," he says, "I mean, yes, you are… but you're _not._ Do you remember anything from that life? No. Do you remember any of those decisions? No. The woman you are today is shaped by the things you've done and the decisions you've made since you came out of that duffel bag in Times Square. That's who _you_ are, Jane."

"That's… I understand what you're saying," she understands and she appreciates more than he could ever imagine, "but what you;re saying isn't what will hold up in court. I _am_ that woman in the eyes of the law."

"I don't care," he says, almost growls.

"And I cannot let you get involved, be part of this. You would get in so much trouble," she says.

"You're not letting me get involved in anything. I am choosing this," he says.

She gets up then, unable to take it anymore. She takes a few steps away from him. She wants to scream. She wants him to scream, to get angry.

She feels him get off the bed as well, but he does not move.

She turns to face him, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. "I won't let you do this," she says.

He takes one step towards her. "That's not your decision," he argues.

"Of course it is! I can go back to the FBI right now and tell them everything!" she says, not fighting the tears anymore.

"No, _I_ won't let you," he says, taking another step and closing the distance between them.

"That's not _your_ decision," she repeats his response.

"Jane," he says her name, so gentle, so careful with it, like it's a fragile thing that could break is he uses too much. He reaches for her then, gently, his hand finding her shoulder. He gives it a squeeze before traveling upwards, his thumb brushing her neck, tracing her jaw.

"I can't let them take you from me," he says. _Again,_ he thinks to himself. But it doesn't matter. Whoever she was before, the young girl that she could have been, the calculating woman she was, none of it matters because now she is her. She is Jane. His Jane.

 **END**.

* * *

So, here it is! My first full Blindspot fanfic. Thank you so much to everyone who read this, reviewed it, favourited, followed. All of you. Thank you! And I'll be seeing you in a new fic soon. Yay!


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